West Bridge Journals

Back up Lavon, Back up!

The wounded bobcat leaped from the rafters and landed on a chicken and with those sharp claws and teeth, ripped that chicken to shreds. Then she started leaping for me in large bounds, and there was no where to go.

Chicken farming was not really my thing, even though I worked hard at it for 10 years, I wasn’t that good of a farmer. But, because I did work hard raising them, I would come unglued when a critter got into the chicken house and killed some of my chickens. Wild house cat were a big problem, and of them the half breed house cat/bobcat cause me the most trouble. I guess I killed at least 20 of them during those 10 years. However, on two occasions I met and killed the real thing in a one on one battle.

After church on Sunday night, my brother-in-law, Lavon and I went to check the 10 houses we had, to see if everything was ok. The chickens were scheduled to be loaded out the next night. They were full grown and we did not want to lose any now. As we drove up to the last house nearest the woods, I immediately saw that something was wrong. The chickens were very agitated and at the center of the house they were up against the wall and there were several dead ones in the middle. They were covered in blood and I knew right away we had a cat in the house. I grabbed my 22 automatic and because Lavon does not see very well, and it was dark, I had him walk behind me and hold on to my belt. I told him that, “When I turn, you turn, when I stop, you stop.” That way I would not have to worry about him when I started to shoot the cat.

We started down the dimly lit chicken house looking for the killer of my chickens. Lavon was in route step with me holding my belt from behind, and after about 30 yards I saw two eyes looking at me from the rafters. I told Lavon to stand still, and I aimed at the dark shadow of a body and shot. It was a bad shot, because I hit her in the gut. Now the last thing you want to have is an angry gut shot bobcat coming for the one that did that to them. That cat leaped off the rafter, and killed the chicken she landed on and was coming for me. She was so close that I could not get another shot off. All I could do was yell for Lavon to back up. I’m backing up all over Lavon, but he can’t see over me to see what is happening and we are not getting anywhere. All of a sudden the cat is there and leaps for me, and I do the only thing I can and hit her in midair with the butt of my rifle, breaking the stock on it, but killing the 30 pound bobcat. If that don’t get your adrenalin up, nothing will.

The other time I met one was also in the chicken house, when I had nothing but a shovel for a weapon. The cat saw me and took off running down the house to get away. I ran after it, and as he tried to ram his way out through the wire at end of the house, I caught him and laid him out with that shovel.

Now if I had met that cat in the woods, I probably would have ran away myself, not being a hunter, and never was a good one when I did hunt, but like I said I go a little crazy when they are after my chickens.